Baby, It's You
by Slut Queen Virgin King
Summary: My response to the 'First time Hermione Sees Her Baby's Face' challenge on WIKTT. Ever done something you can't remember the next day? Now COMPLETE! Please r&r.
1. Default Chapter

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BABY, IT'S YOU

Hermione felt a quick, pinging ache in her back, then it was gone. She sat up straight in her chair, and stretched, then hunched back down over her exam parchment.

"Not now," she told herself. "Not bloody now." 

Her body obeyed her for a full twenty five minutes, long enough that she could excuse the next twinge, equally quick and barely there, as a need to go to the toilet.

She powered through her second essay parchment. One more essay to go, on her last exam at Hogwarts. She glanced at the large glass timer sitting on Macgonagall's desk. An hour left. She could do this. She recrossed her legs, and now felt the need in earnest to have a pee.

Not now!

She increased the rate of her scribbling. 'The Seventy Two Ways To Change A Person Using Only A Wand'. She could think of one more way, using a wand of flesh. Get them pregnant.

Another pain, longer this time, and making an ambitious journey deep into her abdomen. She twisted in her chair to ease the pain, then clenched her teeth to ignore it, and soldiered on.

Hermione deeply regretted that day thirty nine weeks ago at the start of the school year. If only the seventh year students hadn't had a slap-up dinner with the teaching staff. If only she hadn't had that sixth Vine liqueur.

All she could remember now was a dark head, and a pale body above her, between her legs, kissing along her torso. At least she could take comfort in the fact it wasn't Ron. She had a nasty suspicion it was Harry.

They'd never spoken of it. He was firmly within the clutches of Ginny Weasley. But all year, as her waist thickened, he'd defended her against all insults, all questions, and the initial howlers from her parents that had later become concerned letters.

Hermione scribbled on, her mind only half on the essay. She thought about Ron begging her.

"Go on, 'Mione, let me practice on you. I've done Harry so many times that if I even look at him, I feel ill. Let me please!"

"Oh, go on then." Maybe it was the pathetic look on his face, or the fact he was clinging onto her leg and making a spectacle of them both in the Gryffindor common room. Or maybe it was because she felt sick and had no defences left.

She let Ron practice his Divination skills on her. Seventh years worked with scrying smoke, flame, wind, sand, and the flight of birds. Ron let Hermione tip out a small bucket of sand on the floor. He squatted and was silent a long time. He looked back and forth between Hermione and the sand.

"Well?" she said, and crouched down beside him. "Do you see a trip to the beach? Or a desert, maybe?"

Ron shook his head and pointed into the mess of sand. Even Hermione could not miss the tiny screwed up face patterned there.

"Winston Churchill?" Ron puzzled. "What's that meant to mean?"

But Hermione knew. It all made sense. The sick feeling that was her constant companion. Sore breasts. And a period that had gone on holiday that she'd put down to stress.

Then Ron had caught sight of Hermione's pale face. "Hermione? What?……Oh. Oh. Uh-oh." He swallowed. "Who?"

And she burst into tears. "I don't know."

Ron licked his lips. "Was it the 7th year bash at the beginning of term? I'm kinda hazy about that night. Do you think….?" He drew Hermione gently to her feet. "I'll marry you, if you want."

Hermione hugged him, and through her tears, snorked on his shoulder. "Oh Ron, thankyou, but no. All I know is that it wasn't you."

Ron held Hermione like she was blown glass. "Doesn't matter," he said gruffly. "I'll still do it. I'm in line for a job as beast-keeper at Pellinor's Breeding Zoo, and-"

"Ron, it's okay. I'll manage. But thankyou."

For all their bickering over the years, and their failed romance in fifth year, Hermione suddenly knew what a friend she had in Ron Weasley, and later, in the whole Weasley tribe, when they found out. Ron was the only one who knew of her few blurred memories of dark hair, and pale skin. He had looked askance at Harry, Neville, Gwydion, and Crabbe all year. And Hermione loved him for it, even if she was almost sure he was wrong.

Hermione wrote faster as the pains came closer together. First a timeable twenty minutes apart, then slowly pulling into fifteen minutes, then twelve. She was onto her third essay, and now wriggled around in her seat as each pain became more distracting. She curled her feet inside her shoes, and pressed her free hand into her stomach, as though pressure could stop what her body had determined to do.

She had been summarily ejected from the Potions classroom once her pregnancy became known, and after her fourth month, broomstick practice was forbidden her. Like that was any hardship. But she griped mightily about missing Potions. Snape would not give way.

"You cannot be exposed to toxic substances, Miss Granger," he'd said, when Hermione had brought the matter before Dumbledore. "I won't have you endangering…anyone."

When she'd stared hard at him, willing him to change his mind, he'd dropped his gaze, but held firm on his resolve.

End of the argument, and Dumbledore upheld his decision.

She would still pass her NEWTs, as she had more than enough subjects, but lack of Potions would not see her into the post-graduate course she wanted. Not that any further study seemed likely anyway. Not with a baby to care for. No matter how much her parents, and the Weasleys offered their time and support, Hermione was not ignorant of the amount of time a baby took up. Studies would have to wait at least a year or two.

She was on the last third of the essay, and now had her legs tucked up under her. She'd squirmed so much that Macgonagall had noticed. She had sidled down the aisle of the examination room and surveyed Hermione. Hermione forced herself to stillness and did not look up. Macgonagall stood there some considerable time, but finally moved back to her desk at the front of the room. After than, Hermione kept her movements to a minimum and instead clutched at the side of the desk, knuckles white.

Her pregnancy had been uneventful, apart from the constant declarations from the male population of Hogwarts.

"It wasn't me." Seamus Finnigan.

"Not me, you're not my type, no offence." Paul Anthony, and his 'friend' Mark.

"I'm saving myself for marriage." Good grief, are you, Neville?

"Who'd touch a mudblood?" Malfoy.

"I woulda crushed you, Hermione." Hagrid.

Finally, she'd gone to Dumbledore and begged for a spell. He'd patted her on the shoulder and explained that no spell could unfog a mind sozzled with alcohol. He seemed particularly unhelpful, and she uncharitably thought that perhaps he only did his all-seeing, all-knowing Grandfather act for Harry. As much as she'd asked, cried and despaired, his message was always one of dealing with the present, of lying in the bed she had made.

So, she'd endured not knowing, but suspecting Harry, who suspected himself, and their friendship was strained. Instead of him being the moderator between her and Ron, now Ron stood between the two of them, chivvying them past half-reproachful looks and into good humour.

The last line of the essay. She slammed the full stop home and dropped her quill on the floor. Then she stood and waved at Macgonagall. The older witch looked up, and saw Hermione lean into a contraction. She nodded, and Hermione lumbered from the room.

Ron half-rose from his seat to follow, but Macgonagall shook her head. Ron forced himself to sit again and resume his essay. One of his best friends was giving birth. Who the hell cared about bloody essays? But he wrote on. In the next seat, Harry had briefly ceased writing and was frozen in place. Ron wondered if he was reliving memories he had not shared with anyone, maybe of the night Hermione's baby was conceived.

Hermione staggered against a wall, not sure where she was in Hogwarts. She'd taken one turn, then another, but couldn't remember now which way. The pains were close together now, maybe five minutes apart. She was sweat-soaked. She sank down and struggled off her shoes and socks. Her clothes were strangling her, although some months before she had exchanged her fitted school uniform for loose grey overalls with Gryffindor buttons. As the months progressed, she'd undone one side button after another until now all that kept them on her body were the two large buttons on the shoulder straps.

She pulled the overalls away from her body, trying to give herself more room. She was sitting open legged on the cold stone floor, leaning forward over herself as another contraction rocked her.

"Miss Granger, this is scarcely the place to be sitting-" Snape stood over her, arms folded. He saw what was happening to her. "Hermione?" He squatted. "Are you in labour?"

It struck Hermione as funny. No, you stupid git, I'm baking a cake. No, idiot, I'm soliciting for sexual favours.

He put his hands under her elbows and lifted her. She felt every movement of the tiny muscles in his hands. Her skin was tissue paper, even the seams of her clothes rasped at her.

"I'll take you to the Infirmary. Come along, walk now."

She tried to pull out of his supporting arm. "Don't touch me! I can't walk!"  
"Walking is good. It will help your labour."

No doubt the big twit had read that somewhere. She tried to pull away again. Snape held her fast. 

"You will walk, Hermione, and I will help you."

They made an unlikely couple as they traversed Hogwarts halls, she supported and sheltered in his arm, half under his robe, both of them stopping every few minutes while she sobbed and gasped through another contraction.

Her waters broke outside a classroom. There would be no comfortable hospital bed for her. Her knees turned to jelly and she sagged against Snape. He caught her up in his arms and nudged open the classroom door.

Second year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were diligently cutting up maggots. The stench made Hermione gag, then vomit over Snape.

"Not here, then," Snape muttered.

His own rooms were not far from here. He half-carried her, half dragged her down a flight of stairs and into his rooms. Why did everyone assume he lived in the dungeons? He worked there, but who wanted to live near their work?

Snape dumped Hermione on the bed and left her while he quickly changed out of his stinking clothes. He came back in time to see Hermione writhing on his bed, handfuls of bedspread scrunched in her hands, and a huge wet stain underneath her. Her waters had flooded further.

Snape summoned Poppy Pomfrey via the floo, who arrived and shoved Snape out of the way. He was awkwardly mopping Hermione's brow. She didn't want it and kept batting him away.

"Don't touch me!"

Mop, mop.

"Leave me alone!"

Wipe, wipe.

"Touch me again and I'll shrivel your dick!"

Pause, then another swipe with his handkerchief.

"Get off! Don't even look at me,not ever again! Your eyes are hurting me!"

"Oh, come now, Hermione-"

She rose off the bed and punched him neatly in the face. Poppy arrived and hauled him away.

"Maybe you'd like to make us a nice cup of tea now, Professor. Hermione's a little upset at the moment."

Snape hovered uncertain in the background.

"Make him stop looking at me!" Hermione shrieked. "He's got no business in here. His nose is hurting me!"

Poppy turned, and shrugged at Snape. "What can I say, Professor? She's very frightened, and-"

"I've every right to be here, Poppy. This is my room, and-"

"Hermione? Are you alright?" Ron Weasley, tagged by Harry, burst into the room.

Hermione made some unarticulate noise and turned her face away, all the while scrabbling to move her exposed nether regions away from the line of sight.

"Out!" shouted Poppy, pushing them all to the door. "The only other person who has a right to be in here is the father." She glared from one man to the next. They quailed under her frown, but Ron stepped forward.

"I'm willing to own up," he said.

"You're the father?"

"Yes." He dropped his gaze and Poppy raised an eyebrow. "No, but I'll stand by her."

Poppy shook her head. "That's nice, Mr Weasley, but I really do think-" She heard Hermione whimper and shut the door in their faces.

The three men looked at each other. Ron glared at Harry.

"Why don't you own up, you arse?"

Harry started. "I'm not….I mean, I don't think I am. She doesn't want me anyway, any more than she wants you."

Ron swallowed. "Dark hair, Harry. That's all she can remember from the seventh year party. She told me."

Harry felt like a creep for saying it, but his mouth opened of its own accord. "It could be anyone, not just me."

Ron shaped up before Harry. "You utter dick. Hermione's going through this alone, and-"

"It could be me."

Both boys turned and looked at Snape. He looked supremely uncomfortable.

"I had hoped I was wrong, that one of you abysmal boys would come forth and boast, or come over all contrite, even have a flashback. But no." He sighed. "All I know is that I drank too much at the seventh year party, and the next morning, I had a hangover, and the feeling in my body I'd had sex. I remember very little besides…. Well, what I remember is none of your business."

"I'll fucking kill you!" Ron said.

"Mr Weasley, I am your teacher!"

"Not any more, you son of a bitch! The exams are over." But Ron's arm, raised against his Potions teacher, shook. He couldn't do it. Seven years of ingrained obedience, however reluctant, had their way with him.

Harry was more used to breaking rules. He king-hit Snape.

"You said nothing to her! You let her go through this alone. You could've gone to her, said something like you suspected it was you."

"As you could have done, Potter." Snape shook his ringing head and let go a wallop to Harry's midsection.

Harry countered with a right cross to the jaw. Snape reeled.

"I've seen your face when you look at her," Snape said, coming around with a hook under Harry's chin. "You wonder if it's you. But all year you've said nothing."

Harry head butted Snape in the stomach. Both men went down, brawling in the hallway, and shouting insults. Ron stood back. He wasn't going to stop this. Hermione deserved men to fight over her, after all she'd been through. He folded his arms and watched the upper cuts fly. Pity neither of them thought to use their wands.

Hermione pushed a small boy-child from her body. He was long, thin and had dark hair. She cradled him in her arms and could see her jaw in his, and her eyes, but the rest was a mystery. He looked nothing like Harry, Ron, or any other boy she knew. She kissed him. It didn't matter now. He was all hers and she would love him no matter who the father was.

Poppy smiled at her. "One more push, dear, and you'll be done." She pressed on Hermione's stomach gently.

Hermione was barely aware of delivering the placenta, and being tidied up. Her son was in her arms, his brown eyes glaring up at her, his top lip sucked into his mouth in an expression of extreme disapproval. So this was the big, wide world. To hell with that.

The door opened slowly, and Professor Dumbledore peered around the corner. "Miss Granger, may I enter?"

Hermione no longer cared. She couldn't take her eyes off her baby. Dumbledore came in, carrying the Sorting Hat. Ron followed, and then Harry and Snape. The latter two looked worse for wear. Harry sported the beginnings of a black eye, and Snape held an ice pack to his nose. Both had hangdog expressions of the type that suggested Dumbledore had threatened them both with something dreadful if they didn't stop fighting. Ron was grinning. He raced to Hermione's side.

"Wow! 'Mione, you did it. What is it? A boy? Fantastic. Bloody brilliant. You okay?" He crowded her with hugs and kisses. She was too weak to fend him off.

"If I might, Mr Weasley," Dumbledore said and moved forward.

He placed the Sorting Hat over the baby.

"Isn't he too young to be Sorted?" Hermione asked, startled.

"Watch, and wonder," Dumbledore said.

The Sorting Hat came to life.

"Hmm, not too tricky at all. It's all there. The pale skin, the long fingers, the temper. This baby is….Snape's!"

Harry turned, gave Snape a roundhouse kick up the arse. Snape didn't feel it, stunned as he was. Ron jumped off the side of the bed and made towards Snape, ready to thump him. Hermione fainted. The baby slid from her arms, and Dumbledore caught him.

Dumbledore held him out to Snape. "I believe this belongs to you," he said.

***** *****


	2. Home Snape Home

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HOME SNAPE HOME

Baby, It's You

Chapter 2

Poppy Pomfrey was not a Medi-witch to have people cluttering up her nice, neat Infirmary one second longer than necessary. In the Muggle world, women went home a day after having their babies, all being well. And this was the wizarding world. She made sure everything was more than well. So, there was no reason for Hermione Granger to be making her ward look untidy. She'd had the baby after all. A full day ago. 

Madam Pomfrey waved Hermione's small bag of toiletries at her. "I know you can walk, Miss Granger. There's no need to look at me like that. Time to go….. No, don't hang on to the bed. Come along, dear. Dear, stop screaming, it's not that bad."

Poppy pulled Hermione away from the hospital bed and made her stand upright. Her baby was asleep in a pram by the Infirmary door. Such a good baby, considering. Poppy pushed Hermione towards the door.

"Time to go back to your…er…rooms, dear."

Hermione blanched. She would not be returning to her childhood room with her parents. There was absolutely no space now that they'd moved to a London flat, in anticipation of Hermione launching herself spectacularly upon whichever, or witchever world she wished. Babies were not permitted in the Gryffindor dormitories. Interesting that there was a specific rule about that in Hogwarts: A History. Along with the rule about no honey allowed in the Slytherin dorms. Presumably something had happened often enough to make both rules a necessity. To think, her old primary school just had a rule about boys not shaving four letter words in the backs of their hair. That seemed dull in comparison to the Ravenclaw stricture against whips.

Hermione tried to get back into the Infirmary bed, but Poppy bossed her out the door.

He was waiting. The father of her child. She knew he'd be lurking out there. He was a champion lurker, slinker and nutter. Fantastic. She'd enjoyed Ron's constant visits, his fussing over the baby, and Harry's quieter moments with her. But later in the evening, when her friends had gone, Snape had arrived. They'd sat in awkward silence for fifteen minutes before Hermione broke it.

"I don't remember anything," she said. "Nothing beyond dark hair."

She tried not to glance at his head, and didn't mention that she could remember what the top of his head looked like sprouting up from between her legs. Hazy, woozy memory, and it bloody well had to produce that image.

Snape didn't elucidate what his memories were. "The greater part of the castle is to be closed for the holidays," he said. "The dorms will be emptied, cleaned, smudged, and fumigated. Mr Filch is extremely distressed at the moment. He has been traumatised by the three hundred gallon tanker of bleach in the courtyard. So it would not bode well to ask him to leave your rooms open for you." He cleared his throat. "I have taken the liberty of moving your belongings into my quarters."

Hermione made a small strangling noise in her throat. She couldn't speak. She was beyond it.

"I am the father of your child. It is a logical decision to have you come live with me for the interim."

Another strangling noise. Snape had touched her things. What if he'd fondled her knickers? Oh gods, what if he'd used her hairbrush? Then she told herself to snap out of it. Or snape out of it. The man had used her body, and she his. What was a hairbrush between parents?

And now here she was, standing behind a pram, still sore after giving birth, a little woozy, tired, no idea how to fold those tricky nappies(the only time she hadn't scored an instant A+), and Snape was standing there.

"I….er…heard you screaming in there. Is everything well?" he asked, shifting from one foot to the other.

She said the first thing that came into her head. "Well, you know what they say. The first bowel movement afterwards is worse than the actual birth." 

He turned white, turned his back, and indicated she should follow him. They made a charming spectacle as they traipsed the halls of Hogwarts. Professor Snape, still in shock at the sudden knowledge he was a father, leading the way, striding ahead, then falling back when he realised Hermione was walking at snail's pace. Hermione pushing the pram, feeling like her insides were going to fall out, flicking glances between Snape and their son, hoping against hope she could see anyone else's features in the baby's face. The baby, sound asleep, top lip sucked in, but a wonderful poopy smell emanating from the nether regions.

Those who saw the Parenthood Parade kept their comments to themselves, which was probably a good thing, Snape, and his ever-ready wand. Hermione and her correspondence course in Counter Charms, Hexes, and Curses. The baby with the loaded nappie.

Snape had Transfigured his quarters. The large bed remained, but was now steel-reinforced, sported struts, and a second storey. Bunk queen beds. A basinette sat beside the bed, decked out in midnight blue, but with a lack of ribbons, lace, or stuffed animals. One small mercy.

Snape's bathroom was the same. Bath tub, shower, vanity. A plastic baby bath sat inside the adult one.

"Make yourself at home," Snape said, and gestured.

Hermione surveyed the room. She had been in it before, but had been rather occupied, presumably both times. Once drunk, and once giving birth. The walls were dark. Dreary, she amended. There was a photograph hung on the wall. Two people stared out at her, estimably a few years older than herself. They turned to each other, shrugged, and ogled the baby. Hermione estimated they were a few years younger than herself.

"Brother and sister?" she asked.

"Children, from my first marriage," Snape said. "Santo and Caliope live with their mother."

"They didn't go to Hogwarts?"

"Obviously. We felt it better that they grow up away from my…shadow. They live in Australia and attend Wilkes School. They're in post-graduate studies now."

Snape had other children. Grown children. In Australia. Did they really throw prawns on the barbie Down Under? Dear gods. So someone else had spawned with him. Well, the children appeared normal. No extra heads, tentacles, or black wings sprouting from the back. There was hope yet for her own son, then.

A static photo of her parents sat beside the bed. Snape had thought of everything. Welcome to your new life, Hermione.

The baby awoke and squawked. Hermione peered at him.

"What do you suppose he wants?"

Snape looked him over. "Food? Fresh pants? Maybe he's got wind?"

Okay, they would do for starters. Hermione lifted her son up. Yep, clean pants were on the agenda. She glanced at the stack of nappies Poppy had stored under the pram.

"Do you know how to fold a diaper?" she asked.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Didn't Poppy tell you? There's a spell-"

"It….er…doesn't hurt the baby does it?" Hermione asked in haste. "It's not a cork or anything?"

"If you'd let me finish. There's a spell for taking care of all this. Rayleen used it all the time."

Rayleen - the first wife. First? Had there been others? Bluebeard Snape? 

Snape taught her the spell. It magically emptied, cleaned and dried the nappie. One simply had to stipulate where the refuse had to go.

"Voldemort's grave," Hermione said darkly.

Snape allowed himself a small smile. "Rayleen chose the Potters' front garden."

Hermione was starting to see why the mysterious Rayleen was Snape's first choice for wife. She was glad she hadn't said anything mundane. She would need to be a match for this man.

"Am I going to hear about Rayleen every second I'm here?" she asked.

"Pardon me. I didn't realise you had an emotional stake in my past. Other than the previous nine months." He shut up then and retreated to his desk.

The baby yelped again. Hermione felt supremely self-conscious sitting on the bed and undoing her blouse. Snape appeared occupied in exam-grading. Hermione fumbled with her breast. Baby Snape didn't have a clue. Poppy had helped him latch on the night before, and this morning, but now she was on her own, with a baby who was screaming and not sucking. She felt her own tears coming on. It was another test, she knew it. And she had no idea how to pass it.

"Try rubbing his cheek with your nipple," Snape said. His eyes were still on his work, his red quill poised to make big slashing crosses.

Hermione tried. The baby wriggled, and set up another din. She inexpertly pushed her breast into his face. Just like his bloody father - cantankerous to the point of getting in his own way. She pushed again. 

Then she felt the bed sink beside her. Snape knelt, one knee on the bed, his body bent over her.

"Like this," he said. He paused, just for a second, to see if she'd protest. When she didn't, he reached and cupped her bare breast in his hand.

Hermione thought it was obscene to appreciate the warmth of his hand in this moment. She'd just had a baby. She was trying to breastfeed. Snape rubbed her engorged nipple against their son's cheek. The baby turned and Snape fed Hermione's nipple into his mouth, adjusting as he went to make sure the baby had a good hold.

Hermione looked up. "Thankyou," she said.

"My pleas….. You're welcome," he said shortly. He took his time removing his hand however, and lingered to watch his son take his fill.

"Have you thought of a name?" he asked finally.

"Do you have any preference?" Please, not some dreadful family name.

"Anything but Harry, James, Godric, or Moon Orbit."

My grandfather's name is Alfred."

"Or Alfred. My grandfather's name was Pericles, but I doubt you'll want to use that."

"Maybe only on formal occasions."

Again, she saw a small grin play around the corners of his mouth. "I shall leave the naming up to you, Hermione." She expected him to say 'He is your son', but was pleasantly surprised. "After all, you did all the hard work."

She considered the baby suckling at her breast. "David."

"Any particular reason?"

"I like the name."

He said nothing for a moment. "David Pericles?"

"David Ronald Pericles," she finished.

"Ronald as in Weasley?"

"He's going to be godfather. He stood by me when…. no one else would."

Snape swallowed. "A good choice then."

And he went back to his marking.

Hermione managed, just, to swap the baby to the other breast. He fell asleep there, and Hermione took time to stretch her back and look upwards. Two bunks. Obviously they weren't going to be sleeping together. That was a relief. She supposed.

She moved David off her breast and did up her blouse, then popped the baby over her shoulder. Standing, she walked around the room several times with David over her shoulder. He burped twice in his sleep but there was an ominous windy gurgle in the kid's stomach.

"Exactly who," she asked, as she bedded David down in his basinette, "gets the bottom bunk?"

Snape leapt from his desk and bolted towards the bed. Hermione beat him there and dropped herself across the lower bunk.

"Mine," she said.

****

***** *****

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Author's note: I was as surprised as anyone that Snape had been married before. Wonder what else the old guy has kept secret?

Any reader's hints as to where this goes from here? Colic, milk allergies, the runs? And who should I visit them upon?

  



	3. We Are Family

**__**

WE ARE FAMILY

Baby, It's You

Chapter 3

Hermione Granger sat in front of the open fireplace, reflecting that this wasn't how her life was meant to go. She hadn't tamed her hair in days. She was still in maternity trousers because her stomach hadn't sucked back in the way books said it would. There was baby glop dried on her shoulder. She was living in Severus Snape's rooms, complete with dark, panelled Wuthering Heights walls, high gothic Dracula ceiling, and Jim Morrison black bedsheets.

Ron Weasley sat in the chair opposite hers. He had David Granger asleep in his arms.

"This isn't how my life was meant to go," Hermione said.

"True. How was it meant to go?"

"Graduation, post-grad studies, brilliant career."

"You can still have that. Just a bit later."

Hermione sucked back tears. "I can't even remember my first year Potions lessons."

"You are living with the Potions Master, 'Mione. You could just ask him."

She snorked back more tears. The tears were the reason Snape was not present. He had taken to spending a great deal of time in the Teacher's Common Room. First it had been the post-natal baby blues. Then Hermione's disgust at getting back her period only four weeks after giving birth. Now, two months after having her son, she missed her old life.

"It's not just that, Ron. It's….. everything. I've got a baby. That means I did it. With Snape."

"Granted it's not anyone's first choice. Certainly not mine. But shoot, Hermione, everyone makes mistakes. Think of that badger tattoo I've got on my bum."

That made Hermione grin. "That will teach you to date Hufflepuff girls." She sighed. "Mum and Dad said they were willing to move again and let me live with them, but I don't see how they can. They already have a mortgage, and-"

"And living with my Mum and Dad doesn't bear thinking about."

They both thought, in silence. Mrs Weasley had made a loud, pink fuss over David. Mrs Weasley and Mrs Granger had gone bootee shopping together, and struck trouble in Harrod's when Mrs Granger's wand got tangled in a mannequin's hair. A plastic model of Elle McPherson was still walking around London somewhere. Mr Weasley had wisely taken Mr Granger to the pub.

Everyone had reconvened in Snape's room later in the evening, on an intercept course with Snape's parents. They'd eyed the baby, Hermione, and the Muggles.

"Lord and Lady, Severus, haven't you heard of Bertie Bott's Condoms?," said Snape's father. Mrs Snape elbowed him.

David's large nose stuck out of the bunny rug. He had rubbed all the hair off the back of his head, so only several tufts of fine, black fuzz topped his skull. He had milk rash on his chin.

"My, that IS a baby," said Mrs Snape. "Well, dears, we must be going."

And the room had emptied after them.

Hermione shook her head and looked at Ron. "I don't need a repeat of that day," she said.

"So, do a Summoning spell and cheer yourself up. Ask for something really good."

"More sleep."

"Really, really good."

"My own room."

"Fantastically good, 'Mione."

"Sleep in my own room, alone, for twenty four hours."

Ron gave up. He stood and laid David gently in his basinette.

"Think about it. You're a witch, fully graduated now, even if you are so tired you could die. You can order your life any way you like."

He shut the door behind him as he left. Thankfully, David didn't wake and yell. Hermione curled up in the armchair. It smelled of Snape. Not unpleasant.

"I'm a witch. I can order my life how I want."

She'd been caught up in baby mundanities too long. If she just kickstarted her mind again, surely it would all come back to her.

Snape stayed in the Common Room as long as he dared, but finally Professor Macgonagall rounded on him.

"For Merlin's sakes, Severus, go home. How can I read the papers in peace if you're here, sighing?"  
"I'm perfectly comfortable where I am, thankyou Minerva."

"Dragonshit. You have a new family. Go tend to it."

There was no one else in the Common Room. All sensible teachers were in bed. Macgonagall had stayed to read the papers.

"It is precisely that reason I'm here, Minerva."

Her voice softened. "Things are not going well, then?"

He sighed. "She cries all the time."

Macgonagall raised an eyebrow. "Don't you remember what it was like first time around?"

He rubbed his eyes. "Rayleen was only seventeen. I was nineteen. We thought it was such a wicked adventure, having a baby while still at Hogwarts. Sticking it right up the rules. Carting that baby around with us to lectures, living together in Rayleen's Head Girl rooms."

"Precisely the reason we have that Gryffindor rule now about no babies."

"So, no, she didn't cry much, except later, when we realised we'd done it all too young."

"Hermione is only nineteen, Severus. She will be feeling like she's thrown her life away."

He sat for a long while, looking out of the high windows at clouds scudding over the Moon.

"Perhaps if she went home to her parents….."

"Perhaps if you acted like the father of her baby," Macgonagall snapped. "I just thank the gods that the fathers of my children are unknown. No paternity troubles."

"Yours are Beltane-gotten, Minerva. Mine aren't." He stretched again.

He didn't hear her mutter 'don't be too sure'.

"Goodnight, Severus. Go play Daddy."

"Fuck off, Minerva."

"Love you too."

He departed and made the weary journey back to his rooms. The door was standing open. Anyone could walk past and check out his library, his décor, or his Antique Owl Collection, for Merlin's sakes! What was Hermione thinking?

There was a murmur of voices within. Oh, not the Potter and Weasley brigade again, please. Didn't Hermione have any Slytherin friends?

Snape walked through the door. The room was tidied beyond all belief. The beds were made. Everything was dusted(alarming in itself). Hermione had applied some sort of hair tamer to herself and she no longer resembled a Cleansweep 1. But most surprising were the visitors.

"Hi Dad," said Santo. He had a broad Australian accent and was taller than Snape now. He had his father's dark hair and eyes, and his mother's coffee coloured skin.

Caliope took the same features and feminised them. She smiled at her father.

"Dad, hi."

Hermione swallowed. "I…er…that is….. I did a spell. I wanted to know more about you, and-"

"Looks like the spell thought we were the best bet," said Santo. He sidled over to his father. "Dad, she's younger than Caliope. That's a bit rank, isn't it? I mean, Mum said you were a bastard, but we never thought you were into cradle-snatching."

Caliope whisked Hermione away to look at the baby. Snape got a facts-of-life lecture from his son. There was something he thought he'd never experience.

"Dad, it's just creepy. The thought of you….. and her…. It's just off, that's all."

"Have you finished?"

"Mum says hi, and that you're a fucking perve."

"Tell your mother hello, and that it's none of her business any more. Now, are you finished?"

"I s'pose."

"Good. Then you will be unspeakably polite to Hermione while you are here. You will tell her nothing about my Deatheater years. You will admire David, and you will go home as soon as possible."

"Sure Dad. Righto." Santo turned away from him. "Hey, Hermione?" he called. "Are you and Dad going to have any more kids?"

Hermione blanched. Snape clipped Santo across the back of the head. Santo grinned.

"Do you think you could make a girl next time? Caliope hates being Daddy's precious." He took on a wheedling tone, uncomfortably like Gollum from those unrealistic Lord of the Rings movies.

Hermione was whiter. Her knuckles clenched around the edge of the basinette. Snape thought he saw sparks light off the ends of her tamed, but not untroubled hair.

"Er, Santo…."

"And we can all get together for Yule, which is every six months in our family, because we operate under the Southern Hemisphere. Of course, we'll need a bigger table this year."

"Santo…."

"You don't mind sitting at the kid's table, do you, Hermione?"

The hexes hit him all at once. Snape's banished him back to Australia, via a Whip-Thru spell out of Hogwarts grounds, and then express Apparation to Melbourne. Caliope's spell probably taped his mouth over. But it was Hermione's that delivered the Tarantellus curse that kept him doing the Macarena for forty eight hours straight.

"Sorry about that," said Caliope. "My brother's a first rate dickhead."

Hermione smiled thinly. 

At that moment, Snape's bunk bed collapsed on top of Hermione's lower bunk.

"Santo has a peculiar sense of humour," Snape said tightly.

Caliope excused herself from the room. "I think I hear my mother calling," she said. There was going to be a fight. She could feel the tension in the air. Much safer to be on another continent. That Hermione looked like a woman to be reckoned with. Why did Dad always take up with the strong-willed ones?

David awoke and started to cry. Hermione picked him up and shushed him. She retreated to the armchair and lifted her tshirt. David was soon making gross slurping noises.

"I just wanted to know about you," she said, as Snape glared at her.

"You could have asked me."

"When were you here? I've hardly seen you in weeks." There was no sign of the weepy girl he'd left this morning. The true Hermione Granger had returned, perhaps not as true in spell-casting as she had been, but everything else except her stomach appeared to be in the right place.

"At least you have met my children," he said. "Santo will settle down. He has enjoyed all these years as my only son." He caught her doubtful look. "I will owl my ex-wife and tell her what happened. She will see to him." He paused. "Most likely with a cooking spoon."

Hermione ran her spare hand through her hair. "My fault as well, I suppose. It's silly of me to expect an instant welcome from your family." She swallowed. "And I will ask you in future. About yourself."

They eyeballed each other. David finished drinking, and wriggled sleepily in Hermione's arms. Snape came forward and lifted him up. 

"I'll take him if you want to rest." He looked at the bags under Hermione's eyes. He held David with one arm and produced his wand. "Aqua lavendis," he said, and swished and flicked. "There's a lavender oil bath waiting for you."

Hermione didn't move. "David needs a clean nappie,and a bath, and-"  


"I am his father. I'll manage."

Still she didn't move. Snape muttered another spell. Hermione's clothes fell to the floor. She screamed and tried to cover herself.

Snape rolled his eyes, but not before giving her an appreciative once-over. "Hermione, at some point, I have seen it all before. Go and bathe. I will bath David."

Hermione scurried away, one hand over her breasts, which she knew was stupid because he'd watched her breastfeed every day for two months. And one hand over her rear, which was doubly stupid because one small hand was not going to cover her post-baby spread. She clambered into the bath before reflecting that David usually used the bath. How was he going to bath the baby?

She stretched out in the huge, triangular bath and greedily thought "Mine, mine".

The bathroom door opened. She blinked. Two naked males in the bathroom….in the bath. She shifted her legs to make room for them. Snape cradled David on his knees. There was just no etiquette for a moment like this.

"Hermione, presumably at some point, say eleven months ago, you have seen me naked. I am David's father. There is absolutely no reason to be coy."

At least he had a gurgling baby to cover his genitals.

"We are a family. Perhaps not the most traditional one, but there we stand," Snape said.

David kicked water at Hermione. She relaxed her hands from over her breasts and leaned forward to cup water over their baby's head. He refluxed a gob of sour milk onto Snape's hand.

"Are you going to be getting into everything that's mine?" Hermione asked, without thinking.

Snape's eyebrow rose. "I thought," he said slowly, "that I had already done that."

***** *****

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Thankyou to everyone who supplied me with baby horror stories. They are much appreciated. When I figure out where this story is going, and hopefully a plot will appear soon, I shall post again.


	4. A Man On His Own

**__**

BABY, IT'S YOU

Chapter 4: A Man on His Own

David Granger was chewing on the end of a stick. Not any old garden-variety stick. The stick turned him orange. Hermione Granger extracted it from her son's mouth.

"Severus!" she shouted. "He's found your wand again. I wish you'd pick up after yourself."

Professor Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts, bad-tempered bastard of the year, and into his second family, dragged his attention out of a large dusty tome titled '101 Uses for Expelliamus'. He glanced at his five month old son.

"It won't kill him," he said. "Give him another chew, and he'll go back to normal."

Hermione's hands went to her hips, planted there. "That's not the point."

Snape sighed. "And what exactly is the point?"

"He found it wedged into a chair. You simply have to start putting things away." She gestured to the top bunk of their beds where his sheets hung over the side, then to a stack of opened books, and a cold cup of tea balanced on them.

David grabbed Snape's wand and sucked on it again. The wand was next to useless to anyone but Snape. David turned slowly pink, then polka-dotted, then back to his normal flesh colour. Hermione grabbed the wand off him and substituted a frozen plastic teething ring.

Snape sighed over his text. "These are my rooms, Hermione."

She snapped her arms across her body. One Snape-comment too many. "So that's the way it is, then? I see. Well, if that's the case, David and I will move out. We'd hate to ruin your dank little pigsty."

Snape stared at her in disbelief. "What the hell is the matter with you? Is it more of that post-natal stuff?" He thought again. "PMS? I have potions to fix both, you know."

"That's right, just give me a potion and hope I'll shut up."

"Believe me, I have potions for that, too."

"Right, that's it. We're going. I'm not going to stay here another minute."

The words hung in the air. It wasn't the first time Hermione had said them, but it was the first time Snape hadn't responded. They looked at each other. Then Hermione snorted, and began spelling her belongings out the door. She wasn't clear where she'd go. Certainly not back to her Gryffindor rooms. She was graduated now, and her rooms were filled by the new 7th years. Her parents had no room for her. A weekend with the Weasleys had proved a disaster, as Mr and Mrs Weasley were puzzled, horrified and delighted by turns, and gobsmacked by their own turn of events. Mrs Weasley was pregnant, and vowing never to take part in another Beltane ritual again. Malfoy Manor was virtually empty, but Hermione couldn't see herself fronting up there and asking for a room.

Snape felt a certain amount of relief when the door closed and he had his rooms to himself. But felt a greater amount of loss. His rooms were too quiet now. There was no baby gurgling, and no bright young woman pottering about. She was regaining her figure and more than her usual amount of mouthiness.

Snape tried to immerse himself in his book. They obviously weren't cut out to be a couple, any more than he and his first wife had been. Why did they insist upon all this fatherly interaction with the baby? His own father had never been home and he'd turned out all right. Except for the Death Eater thing. And the Spice Girls thing. And Dumbledore having to walk him on a leash for two years. But apart from that…. What was wrong with these women? It couldn't be him.

He wondered if he were meant to go after Hermione, call her back. Surely she wouldn't indulge in those difficult-to-umpire mind games?

"He didn't try to stop me!" Hermione wailed into Macgonagall's shoulder. "I thought he'd come after us, but he didn't."

Macgonagall patted her back and let her cry. She loved the young Gryffindor greatly, but it was mightily difficult to be confessor to both sides of the story.

"Severus has never been much of a family man, Hermione," she hedged.

"S-surely there's some spell…."

Macgonagall smiled. "Unfortunately, no. But- no, no, that's too cruel."

Hermione hung on the older witch's arm. "Please. If there's anything at all!"

"Let me send a few owls," was all Macgonagall would say.

Snape paced his rooms. It had been a full month since Hermione had moved into airy rooms halfway up the Astronomy Tower. He saw her nearly every day with David, strolling around the lake, or sitting near the Quidditch pitch on the grass. Hermione usually had her nose in a book and studiously pretended not to notice him. He hovered nearby, eating up images of both of them. David had developed into a solid baby, with spikes of black hair. He wanted to pick him up. He wanted to speak to Hermione. He wanted…. He wanted them back.

There was a knock at his door. Yes! They'd come back. He ripped open the door. Hermione stood there, David tucked close to her. She had a large baby bag over her shoulder. He stepped back from the doorway to let them in. They swept past him. She'd have nothing to complain about. He'd been picking up after himself, just in case she dropped by.

He blanched. A tall, rangy woman with coffee-coloured skin and big dark eyes walked past, trailed by two young adults. Snape blinked. It had been quite a while since he'd seen his first wife, Rayleen. His two children, Santo, and Caliope looked well. Santo seemed even taller than last time.

"Hi Dad," his eldest son said. Caliope merely smiled.

"Severus, your rooms are clean!" said Rayleen, raising an eyebrow.

Behind Caliope was Macgonagall. She hovered in the doorway, and pushed a young woman into the room.

"I've been meaning to tell you, Severus," Macgonagall said. "Beltane seventeen years ago. This is Evelyn."

Santo and Caliope traded glances.

"Not another one," Santo muttered. "Doesn't he know what a condom is?"

"Shhh, that's what Granddad Snape said."

Snape stared from Santo to Evelyn to David. He swallowed. Rayleen clapped him on the shoulder in a hearty fashion.

"Honestly Severus, you really should stop putting it about. You really are a fucking disgrace." She turned away towards the door. "Well, do enjoy yourself. We're off now."

"Is that really him?" Evelyn asked her mother. "He's….. that's really him? Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Macgonagall said. "This is your big chance to get to know him, Evvie." She was already out the door.

"Kids, have a good time," Rayleen said.

"What is going on?" Snape all but shouted.

Hermione handed him their baby. She kissed David on the head.

"Be good for your father." 

"We've done all the parenting up till now," Rayleen called. "About time you did your bit. We'll see you in two weeks."

They didn't stop for a discussion. Hermione gave David a longing look as she shut the door. David had rarely been separated from his mother. He started to bawl. Evelyn looked at him doubtfully. Caliope was up and taking David from him. Santo was checking out 'Most Potente Potions'.

Snape ran to the door and opened it. They were gone. Two weeks. Something shattered behind him.

"Sorry Dad," said Santo, trying to hide the crystal ball behind his back.

Caliope and Evelyn were looking in the bathroom, trying to find room for their toiletries. David was sick on his shoulder. White gloop trailed down his arm.

Snape groaned. Why did he have to pick strong-willed women with a fine sense of revenge? Two weeks? And the worst part was, he'd done absolutely nothing to deserve this. Nothing! Nothing….. maybe that was the problem. He'd done nothing all these years, not as far as his children were concerned. Not the hard work of creating people out of tiny blobs of flesh. He spared a thought for his brief liaisons with Sybil Trelawney, and Rosmerta. Surely they had no surprises up their sleeves for him. Although, Sybil did have a dark-haired nephew. If he were a nephew.

First thing in the morning, Snape was going to order in a supply of Bertie Bott's All-Weather Condoms.

Hermione barely stood her first week away. Minerva and Rayleen were wonderful company, but they'd had some years to attach and detach from their children. She was new to this. She missed David terribly. And she missed Severus, if truth be told. At least at Hogwarts, she could stroll around the grounds and run into him, or catch glimpses as she accidentally on purpose walked past his dungeon.

Rayleen's Queensland home was lovely, and the sunshine and heat soaked lingering birthing aches from her body, but she wanted her baby with her.

She lasted eight days. Minerva and and Rayleen were drinking white wine and idling speculating on Snape's woeful parenting skills, and the conversation turned to his bedroom antics.

"It was on the ground," Minerva said. "Beltane. The spring tides were running, and I couldn't find Albus in the dark. In the end, someone put their arms around me, and well, the rest is history. You know what it's like." She paused. "It was a less than rewarding experience. A ten minute interval in my life I'd sooner forget."

"Mmmph," said Rayleen, taking another sip of her wine. "I never celebrated a festival with him. He knocked me up the third time we did it, up in my bedroom in Gryffindor Tower. But then, we were doing it about five times a day." She grinned. "Ahh, youth!" Then she scowled. "I'll kill Caliope if she's doing what I did."

The two older women turned to Hermione. She squirmed under their gaze.

"I…er…can't remember," she said. "It was the 7th Year welcoming feast. I drank too much, and-"

"Haven't you done it since then?" Rayleen asked, surprise in her voice. "You were living with him, after all."

Hermione shook her head, a tiny embarrassed gesture. Rayleen and Minerva traded glances. Rayleen sighed.

"Say what you like about his parenting, when I knew him, he wasn't bad in the cot. I really think you'd better go see for yourself before you do the grand exit."

"Maybe he got worse as he got older?" Minerva muttered. Then she shrugged. "Maybe we just weren't suited to each other." She turned her steady gaze to Hermione. "On the whole, I think Rayleen is right. Go find out before you leave for good."

Hermione swallowed. If she went back now, she could at least see David, smell his baby smell again. If she went back right now, Apparating into Hogsmeade, she'd have David in her arms in half an hour, and….. Severus would be there. She stood.

"We'll send your bag on later," said Rayleen. "Good luck. Don't do anything I wouldn't do on a bicycle."

Hermione Apparated to Hogsmeade.

The door to Snape's rooms stood open, but he was not present. The rooms were extraordinarily clean. She walked in. That broke the Illusion Seal on the room. Sleeping bags yawned open on the floor. There was a bra and knickers set drying on Snape's Spellotaped crystal ball. The bathroom was cloaked in a heady mixture of aftershave, deoderant potions, powder, perfume, and hair care potions. Books were strewn everywhere, along with an odd assortment of baby toys, three books on Quidditch, and six issues of Witch Weekly. The bunk beds were unmade. Sitting on a perch was a shell-shocked owl. It stared glassily at her, twitching occasionally.

A new picture hung on the wall: Severus and his known off-spring. They were all glaring at each other and Santo was making bunny-ears sign behind his father's head. David had Snape's wand in his mouth again and was an attractive lilac.

Hermione had her back to the door, but heard the commotion approaching. Caliope and Evelyn were arguing about who got first turn in the bathroom. Santo let out a loud burp, followed by the words "And another champion noise to add to the collection!" Hermione's stomach turned over when she heard David squawk. She'd missed the sound of his nanny-goat bleatings.

Hermione turned. The family exploded into the room, followed by Snape with David over his shoulder.

"Hey, Dad, your Lolita's here," said Santo.

Then all three young adults stopped moving. Snape stepped away from David, who hung in mid-air, frozen in time and space. Snape put his wand away. He saw Hermione.

"How often do you do that spell?" Hermione asked, her arms folded.

"Not often enough." He threw up his hands. "I surrender. Is that what you harpies wanted? I've seen the error of my ways. Damned if I know how to change the past, but I'll do better in future. Is that what you wanted to hear. Where are Minerva, and my dear ex-wife? Do they not want their…our children back? I am a broken man. Isn't that enough?" He pulled out his wand again, and made to unfreeze his children. Hermione moved forward and stayed his arm.

"They can't see or hear anything while they're like that, can they?"

"No."

She pulled him towards the lower of the bunk beds. "Then leave them for now." She gave her son a once-over. He seemed fine as he floated in mid-air, temporarily suspended. His blank, black eyes stared past her.

She turned her focus on Snape. His arms hung at his sides. She considered him for some time.

"I have the baby," she said. "Now I want the memories to accompany that."

***** *****

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Well, well, finally they get down to it. About time. When I figure out how to end this, I'll post again. Explosive sex scene? Wedding? And what of Sybil Trelawney? Or Lily Potter? Harry does have that dark hair after all….. Suggestions welcome.


	5. The Living End

**__**

BABY, IT'S YOU

Chapter 5: The Living End.

Hermione brushed past her baby, suspended in mid-air. She wanted to unspell him this instant, and have him in her arms. Ten days was a long time to be parted. Yet, for all that he smelled of milk and piddle, and his clothes were bunched either end of his round belly, he was totally oblivious to her in this moment. She did not look at Snape's other children, frozen in mid-conversation. None of them would come to any harm.

She pulled Snape towards his large bed. He let her lead him, his arm slack in her grasp.

"Hermione," he began. "Are you sure?"

She licked her lips. "I'm sure."

He sat on the bed, and pulled her to him. She put her arms around him and stood between his legs, his head cradled on her breasts.

"Your heart is beating fast," he muttered.

"It was all that Apparating from Cairns," she said, trying to make light of it.

His hands ran lightly over her back, fingertips only, discovering for himself that under her clothing, she was as fleshly as she had never been in his dreams. Hermione stretched up a little so that her shirt came free of her skirt, allowing his hands access. He slid one hand under her shirt and up her back, along the spine. The small hairs on the back of her neck rose to attention, and he brushed a single finger over them. She goose pimpled. Yet he made no further move. His hands remained on her back, caressing her, his breath warm through her clothing. She wore no bra and her nipples were outlined.

Hermione swallowed. It was now or never. She was too much uncharted territory for him to go blundering in, the way he had over a year ago. She grasped the hem of her shirt and pulled it quickly over her head.

"Is this what you want, Severus?" she whispered.

He gave no verbal response, but moved fast to open his mouth and take one nipple inside. His hands moved restlessly over her now, coming round to cup her breast and feed it further into his mouth. Hermione pushed his head to her with both hands, feeling like she could be consumed just as she stood, inch by inch by this man's hungry mouth.

Hermione threw back her head to enjoy the sensation. Her eye caught the silent Santo. He was frozen in mid-stride, his head turned toward them. She knew he could not see them, had no sense of passing time, or his surrounds, but still…. He seemed to be looking straight at her, with those dark eyes and raised eyebrows. Come to think of it, Caliope and Evelyn were both looking in her direction, weren't they? Their eyes seemed to follow her every thought. And as for the picture on the wall….. the whole family were gaping and gossiping.

"Severus?" she said.

He moaned against her breast, taking her voice to be one of passion. He pushed her onto the bed and made to cover her body with his.

"Can we… can you do something about-"

He jerked away from his ministrations. Who was in the room? Dumbledore? Death Eaters? Hermione's fucking know-it-all cat? He followed her gaze. The Snape in the family portrait rolled his eyes. Portrait-Santo made gagging noises.

A flip of his wand and the portrait turned around to face the wall. Another flip and Severus' frozen children were floated into the bathroom. The door shut behind them. Severus turned back to the young woman lying across his left arm.

"Now, where were we?" he said, and flashed a brief smile. It transformed his face into something resembling a reasonable human being.

Hermione reached for him. "Do you remember anything about…. That other night?"

Severus shook his head as he diligently worked on the fastenings to her skirt. "No visual memories, but-" He pulled her skirt from her body and slid a long-boned hand into her panties. She jolted against him, wanting to take it slow, but her hips having other ideas. He withdrew his hand and lowered his face to the demure lace trim of her knickers. He inhaled. "Sight isn't always the strongest sense memory," he whispered.

They proceeded then without words. Gasps and inarticulate murmurs gave go and no-go signals until they were naked and Severus lay half on top of Hermione, her leg pulled up slightly through his. He rubbed himself slowly against her hip, allowing the hair on his chest to do the work of his hands on her breasts. She pushed herself against him, rippling and undulating through her body. She was ready. He rose slightly and poised himself between her legs. She opened to meet him halfway, his shaft sliding effortlessly into her slickness. She wriggled beneath him, getting used to the sensation of him within her, and wanting him deeper still. Her heels settled behind his knees and her arms around his back. A shadow flickered over her face. He paused.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I thought….this seems right," she said. "Not familiar exactly, but right somehow."

He nodded, and began the ancient rhythm that made them both gasp.

Afterwards, they lay entwined, her leg thrown over his, her head on his chest, looking at him thoughtfully. He cocked an eyebrow in her direction.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just something Rayleen said."

"Do we have to have my ex-wife in the room with us right now? What did she say about me? If it was about me cheating on her with Lily Evans, then-"

"You cheated on her with…with Harry's mother?"

"Must we have Potter in here as well? Why not make my day and talk about Ron Weasley?"

"You brought up Lily Evans. You cheated on Rayleen with Harry's mother?"

Snape grimaced. "She wasn't Potter's mother then, obviously. It was a one-time thing only. Potter and his crew had gone on a late-night flight for some stupid reason. Rayleen was…well, things weren't good between us. It was the Leaving Feast." 

Hermione made to draw away from him. He held her tight.

"If you are going to condemn me for actions nigh on twenty years ago, then might I suggest something with more substance."

"But you…she…. Harry has dark hair."

"And was born eighteen months after we graduated. Unless Lily had the longest gestation in human or wizarding history, it's out of the question. Now, will you cease being such an idiot." He shook her body slightly. "Repeat after me: this is afterglow, we are meant to enjoy it."

"This is afterglow, we are meant to enjoy it," Hermione repeated in a deliberately flat tone.

Snape glanced down at her. "Now, what was it Rayleen said?"

"She said you were good in the cot."

"And?"

"Nothing else. That's all."

"I meant, and? Am I good in the cot, as those charming Australians would put it?"

"Too little data," Hermione said. "The experiment has to be repeatable." She wriggled against him.

He tightened his arms around her, and his caresses became more than idle. The picture on the wall fell down with a crash, tilting over until it lay face up on the floor. When recovered from their shock, the portrait family all looked at Snape and Hermione, entangled on the bed.

"Jesus Christ, no!" Portrait-Santo moaned. "Don't you ever give up, Dad?"

His sister and half-sister put their hands over his mouth, but not before he said: "Did you at least remember the condoms this time?"

Snape-on-the-bed paled, as did Portrait-Snape. The latter moaned and pointed to all his children.

"What is wrong with you? Have you no sense at all? Aren't there enough of these brats now?"

Real-Snape glanced down at Hermione. She was white.

"I've stopped breast feeding," she stuttered. "I didn't think I'd be doing anything like this, so I didn't…. I didn't…"

All Snapes rolled their eyes ceiling-wards. It certainly seemed like he would need that DADA job. It paid much better, and he would need every knut to raise his children. He resolved that tomorrow he would put the condoms in full view on his bedside table. And get Dumbledore to put a vasectomy spell on him. And perhaps starting putting bromide in his tea. He felt Hermione, young and supple and still pressed against him. Well, perhaps not the bromide. No sense going too far with things.

Something crashed in the bathroom, and Snape knew his spell had worn off his children. The door flew open and his family herded out, Evelyn with David in her arms.

"I've gone blind!" Santo screeched, in reference to the wholesale nudity happening before him. Snape lowered his head to his one free hand and shut his eyes. Two children by Rayleen, one by Macgonagall, one, possibly two by Hermione. If Rosmerta or Trelawney so much as said "I have something to tell you" he would move to the South Pole instantly.

There was a knock at the outer door of his chambers, and Sybil Trelawney's voice called out. "Professor Snape, are you in there?"

Hermione sat up in the bed, naked and magnificent. She grabbed her wand off the bedside table. Zap, and all the children were frozen again. Zonk, and the portrait family had blindfolds. Zam, and Sybil Trelawney was being chased down the corridor by monkeys. Hermione then pulled Severus down to her.

"Not yet, he's not in there. But he will be," she said, and kissed him.

***** *****

__

The End.

Positively and utterly the living end.

Thankyou to all who gave suggestions and comments and reviews.


End file.
